


the things she left unsaid

by remnants_of_a_lost_dream



Category: Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Getting Together, Porn with Feelings, Resolved Sexual Tension, originally on kavileighanna's tumblr as an anonymously submitted fic cuz i was a total wimp lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 15:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6525661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remnants_of_a_lost_dream/pseuds/remnants_of_a_lost_dream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria Hill is a woman of few words, few emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the things she left unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Umm heyyyy what's up ao3, first time posting here...aannd my first fic is one already on tumblr. It can be found originally at kavileighanna's tumblr (someone tell me how to link things pleasssee), and reblogged at my tumblr, theinboxficer

She finds him coming out of the gym, hands still taped up from demolishing a punching bag as she heads in for her own session. 

"Maria." His voice comes out hoarse and cracks at the end. There's too much that goes unsaid in his calling of her name. All the things they've been dancing around for the past several months, hell, the past several years, combined with that horrible fatigue and desperation is too much. But she can't get herself to walk away, to let this slide. 

She bites her lip, and then his mouth is coming down on hers, almost frantically so. The right thing to do would have been to pull away, never mention it again, never mention them again, but she just can't somehow. She kisses back, all teeth and tongue and fierce, gasping breaths and then his hands are sliding down her shoulders, back, all the way to her buttocks and he's maneuvering her against the wall, pinning her under his solid weight and then there's absolute stillness.

“Maria.” The underlying gravel sends shivers down her spine, feelings that she won’t think of, can’t think of. He opens his mouth again, and it’s too much. 

“No,” she whispers and then kisses up into his mouth. The fight has dissipated out of him, and all the things she wants to see―the only things she allows herself to see―are replaced with a gentle caress like all the things that she thought Steve Rogers would be. His presence is like a warm spring rain, and she thinks that she’s the fire that will get burned out. Because everyone knows that fire will get quenched by water, and then she’ll lose everything that once made her the woman she was. 

“Let go,” he rumbles. “I want you, Maria.” She makes a desperate noise and clings to him, pressing her face to his neck as she feels the fog roll in, clouding her thoughts and muting her senses until all she feels is him. 

His fingers dive beneath the waistband of her shorts and panties, sliding through the slickness there and exploring until he finds the little nub hidden in her folds. Maria groans long and low into his neck until his fingers are probing gently at her entrance. “Say yes, sweetheart,” he whispers.

And she shouldn’t let him do that, call her things they can never have, but she just… can’t. The sound she makes should be embarrassing, needy and breathy, but all her senses have been reduced down to the bright burn of his fingers against her heated flesh, until she can’t give a care anymore. “Yes,” she moans. “Yes.” 

And oh god, god, the sound they both make as his fingers slide in and his palm nestles perfectly to cup her and give her everything she needs. Maria moans again and tips her head back against the wall, surrendering but not submissive, not to her feelings, not to him. He chokes something down that sounds suspiciously like a sob, and then takes her mouth, giving and taking and pushing and receiving until she’s a blind wreck of sensations as she shatters again and again around him. 

When she regains control of her hands again, she removes them with some degree of difficulty from where they had been curled onto his shoulders and shoves at his shorts and underwear until she finally has him in hand. 

“Steve,” she breathes. It’s the first time she’s said his name. Like this, anyways, and it makes something spark in Steve’s eyes and makes him press tighter against her and then he’s desperately keening her name and hiking her thighs up higher around his waist as he slowly, oh so slowly pushes into her.

The stretch is perfect, he fits into her perfectly as she settles him in the cradle of her hips and he holds her up against the wall, him as her only connection to the ground. Never has she felt like this, so pliant, so open, and somewhere, deep in the recesses of her consciousness, she’s scared, terrified out of her mind of this. Of what he does to her, of what he will do to her, can do to her. But it’s too late. In the heat of the moment, and perhaps, in a messed-up, unreal, cliche way, with the calling of her heart, she lets him take down her walls, her only line of defense left against everything that makes him the man that she is so undeniably attracted to. 

“Steve,” she chokes out, a sob bubbling up from somewhere as she meets each and every one of his perfect thrusts halfway. 

“Let go,” he repeats. She can’t. She won’t, but then his fingers are diving between their bodies again as he takes her mouth in a hot, all-encompassing kiss and then she’s flying, soaring above the imaginary lines between them. Somewhere along the way, as she shakes apart beneath his body, his hips stutter into hers and he bites down on her neck, groan partially muffled by the skin he’s just marked as his. 

He’s still holding her as she gets her brain back online and he’s still holding her as she shoves him away, panting as tears spring unbidden to her eyes as she crouches on the floor, back pressed against the wall. Their mixed releases burn at the insides of her thighs. 

“No,” she gasps. 

“Maria―” She knows what his eyes will look like, all heat and passion and all the things she’s not allowed to have. 

“No,” she repeats. “Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Like what, Maria?” His hands are cautiously hovering near her face, a tantalizing touch just close enough for a golden electricity to crackle over her and leap across the chasm between them and touch him. 

“Like I just let you take me apart, let you through everything I’ve spent my life building up. Let you―let you in,” she whispers. All the words, unspoken things between them come tumbling out now, and she can’t stop it. Maybe that’s the scariest part, that he can make her like this, touch that vulnerable part inside her locked up deep beneath Ice Queen cloaks and barked orders and the uncountable stains of gunpowder. 

“Like I’m something good, someone that carries a torch you will follow and not ever regret. Like I just fixed something, gave you something you needed. You don’t need me, Steve.” A semblance of a smile twists at her face, and Steve would have given anything to see her smile, but never like this. Never when she’s swamped in self-doubt, reduced to a shell of the woman he’s in love with, and it’s all his fault. 

“No,” he says low and harsh. She flinches at his tone but when she looks deeper, the conviction at the base of it all makes her shiver. “I may not need you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you. Want you for all you’re worth. And you, Maria Hill, are worth something. You are worth more than something.” 

A tear splashes down at this. A quiet, warm tear that slides down her cheeks, leaving a blazing trail of warmth in its path and melting the something under her mask. Because, god help her, she can’t remember the last time she ever cried like this, like all of the pure human she’s been trying to repress and vowed never to feel again. 

“Steve,” she whispers shakily. 

His arms enfold her and hold her tight against everything. “I know, sweetheart,” he murmurs. “I know what you have to do to keep yourself safe from it all, but we can do it, together. You don’t have to give up what you can’t. This doesn’t have to be the end of the woman you are.” It sends shivers down her spine. “It can be a new beginning,” he whispers in that low, rich voice. 

It’s risky, they both know. Letting each other in, beneath their skin, it’s a weakness, it could become compromising. Yet, something’s changed. Something inside of her, Maria thinks, is gone. That piece of her that was holding her back, is now with Steve. She gave it to him, and he took it with a raw and desperate kind of hunger, the burning desire for something to hold onto, to protect himself from all of his own weaknesses and rough edges. With that piece changed, they click together even better than before. It was risky from the start, when she first approached him as maybe friends, risky to when she let him make love to her until she was raw and a melted mess of emotions and desire in the hallway, risky when she’s letting him in right now. But it’s a good kind of risky. 

“Something new,” she agrees, and accepts his hand up. He carefully wraps his hand around hers, taped up knuckles stained with the essence of her humanity and all. She kisses him right then and there in the middle of the public hallway. It’s a sweet and deep kiss. They do live life on the edge, afterall.

**Author's Note:**

> one of my better works, usually i sound like a drunk person after a breakup when I write, there's so much fucking crack
> 
> tell me what you think!!!!!! <3


End file.
